Second Kiss
by Daiya
Summary: Prompt : Ian and Mickey : their second kiss. - From episode 3.05 to episode 3.07. "There was no place for a second kiss in the first place anyway."


_I asked for prompts on Tumblr, and this is one of them. This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I hope this is not too OOC. Also, English isn't my first language, and this is unbeta-ed, so excuse me for all the mistakes you're about to see. Constructive criticisms are welcome, and feel free to give me some prompts if you have some ideas! There will probably be more of these one-shot, maybe some prompts will become multi-chapters, I'm still thinking about it._  
_I hope you'll like it._

**I don't own Shameless.**

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**Second Kiss**

Their first kiss has kind of taken Ian by surprise. They don't talk about it after it happened, at all. Not like they has the chance anyway, since Ian and his siblings has to leave just after Mickey got the bullet out of his ass. He thinks about it, though. A lot. Ian hates himself for feeling his chest tighten when he remembers the way Mickey's lips have felt against his. He hates the fact that he feels hot and somehow happy, thinking about this moment, hidden under the itchy blanket they gave them at the group home. He isn't as emotionless as Mickey is and even if he tries to play the tough guy who doesn't give a fuck about anything, he can't always ignore the way he feels about Mickey. When he was in juvie, it was easier to act like it didn't matter, like he was better without him. Llyod helped a lot at that time and Ian almost believed he was finally free from Mickey this time. Until he came back and told him he'd missed him. Then Ian realized that, fuck, he missed him too.

Maybe even too much.

Ian wants to talk about the kiss. He can't find the courage to do it when he sees Mickey at work. First because he has apparently lost the ability to use his brain, then because Mickey oddly invites him to a sleepover, and Ian is way too taken aback to do anything but mock him and laugh about it. He tries not to tell himself it kinda feels like a date, because even if he's never spent the night with Mickey, he knows they're nothing but two guys fucking. Nothing more. Even if they're apparently allowed to kiss, now.

They are, right?

Mickey actually cooks for him. Nothing fancy, just some stuff that taste like dead animals or something equally disgusting, but it's not some old potato chips or some crackers. Ian eats it, trying again and again to convince himself this is not a date. It's hard, though, because Mickey seems more carefree. They laugh, they talk, they don't even fuck for the first couple of hours. It feels good, Ian feels good, and he wants to talk about that kiss. Fuck it, he wants to do it again. He doesn't, though. He never had a time like this one with Mickey, a moment full of serenity and ease, and he doesn't want to waste what is happening right now. He doesn't want to fuck it up just because he dared put his lips against Mickey's. Maybe he's a little bit afraid of Mickey's reaction. Just maybe. So he doesn't kiss him. Even when they finally fuck, slower than usual. He stays awake for a good part of the night, thinking about it until his head is pounding. Mickey's asleep, his breathing steady, his right arm curled around Ian's hip. Maybe he needs to wait for a sign. Maybe he has to let Mickey kiss him again. Maybe he's just being a pussy, perhaps he just needs to get his shit together and go for it, like the man he's supposed to be. He's a bit lost, and he hates it, because it makes him think about things he simply wants to ignore, things like feelings and shit, and he's well aware that feelings don't have a place between Mickey and him. Never had and never will.

Maybe he just needs to forget that kiss ever happened.

Ian doesn't want to think about what happened just before he got to work. He doesn't want to remember the punches and the violence, the harsh words and the rape. He doesn't want to think about the way Mickey's face has looked after his dad jumped on him, even less the expression on his face when that girl went down on him, ridding him as if the scene wasn't some kind of sick joke. He doesn't want to remember, because every time he does his heart clench painfully and he has to shut his eyes as hard as he can to keep the tears from escaping. But he can't just forget, because it's here, when he looks at his reflexion in the mirror, right here on his cheek, around his eye, taunting him endlessly. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus on what's happening with his family, but then he sees Mandy and he just has to know. It doesn't take him that long to find him. Roofs are their secret thing, apparently, so Ian isn't surprise to find him here, shooting at some doll. He tries to act casual, even tries to be funny. He knows Mickey now, knows him enough to be aware that it's clearly not the right time for a heart-to-heart conversation. There will probably never be a good time for that, anyway. He's also afraid – of Mickey aiming his gun at him, of Mickey telling him this is over. That they're over. He's not really sure about what he's more scared of. But Mickey doesn't talk to him. He doesn't even look at him, and it's what hurts the most in the end. Ian doesn't come closer to Mickey, he doesn't face him nor tries to get a reaction from him, even if he's dying to. He just leaves without even turning back, not able to breathe anymore.

There was no place for a second kiss in the first place anyway.

They're all talking and laughing loudly and happily. There's food everywhere on the table, more food than he hasn't seen in years. They can't stop smiling, like it's the best day of their life. And maybe it is. Ian is happy. His heart seems lighter now and he's so relieved to finally be back home with all his family that he wants to cry. He doesn't, because even Debbie has managed to keep her tears for herself. But he eventually leaves the table just before dessert to get some fresh air. He walks a bit, not to far away from his house, but enough to not be able to hear the sound of their laughs anymore. The sudden silence feels good and Ian leans against the wall, closing his eyes. It takes him by surprise : before he even has time to open his eyes, he's pressed roughly against the concrete. He can't see who's behind him, but he doesn't have to. He recognizes Mickey's body instantly, the familiar heat and the way his fingers are painfully digging into Ian's hips. He stays silent, and Ian waits. Mickey pushes him harder against the wall, and it hurts but Ian doesn't even hiss. "Don't ever talk about what happened again. Or I swear I'll make you fucking regret it. Got it?" Mickey's voice is just a whisper but Ian can easily hear the threat and the anger. So he nods and doesn't even try to push Mickey away from him. He doesn't have to, because Mickey's turning him over and then, suddenly, Mickey is kissing him. The kiss is harsh, almost painful, maybe desperate, and it doesn't last long, but when Mickey pulls away, his eyes are shinning. "Don't ever fucking walk away from me again." he said with rage, but Ian doesn't answer. He leans over, slowly. Fuck the repercussions, he doesn't care about anything but Mickey right now.

Their third kiss is slow and, Ian thinks, full of silent promises.


End file.
